"You should have chosen someone from the Guard." Hamilton leaned boredly against the wooden railing of the training ground. Ethan, on the other hand, is warming up. He looks ridiculous, full of energy stretching his muscles that probably don't even need stretching. He managed to turn around a few more times before he decided to squat. What's his point? I should stretch too, not as conscientiously as he does, naturally. But it's probably not entirely out of the question.
"Why?" I straightened, adjusted my tight turtleneck, and checked the bun on my head with my hand. I don't expect Ethan to even come close to my hair, loose or not. He's not like Marcus, after all. But having them aside isn't entirely out of the question either. "You never served in the Guard either. You just came here and started yelling at them in that general's voice of yours. How Jon got you out of that uniform will forever be a mystery to me," I laughed at my own joke, realizing I’m getting nervous, babbling like an idiot. Ethan has more than good chances to win. "Besides, I feel like he's going to do well with them." Ethan gets along better with the other guardsmen than Hamilton, or so it seems. Maybe because he's the same age, maybe because like them, he doesn't belong anywhere else. And most of them accepted the fact that he would replace their current commander well.
"He better," Deacon muttered. "your captain or not, I’ll find him. No matter what."
"Sounds fun," Steven's voice came from behind me with a good deal of irony. "Why do you want him to win? It's not a bit counterproductive."
"He doesn't have to win, it's enough that he can stand up to me. You'd be surprised how many of them couldn't," I explained, Steven frowned. "His job is, among other things, to stop my rash decisions."
"As far as I know, even Jon can't stop you," he laughed, looking at Ethan and back at me. Jonathan doesn't have to stop me, it's Steven's prerogative now. And he knows it. "But maybe if he wins..."
"Do you think he's going to win?" I asked, offended.
"I really hope Ethan wins!" yelled Emmett, and with a broad smile he walked up to me, snatched me from Steven's arms, and hugged me. "I bet on him. And I can't lose twice in a row," he added as he let me go.
"Strictly speaking, I won, so you couldn't lose."
"Strictly speaking, you don't have that coloured piece fabric confirming it, so you didn't." Emmett is apparently still angry, because the no Steeles have won the Tournament still applies. Officially, of course. Steven smiles delightedly, knowing full well that he won, and is intelligent enough not to take that stupid flag. Although the subsequent celebration was in the colors of blue and silver.
"Did you bet against me?" I shook my head in amusement. "And you're calling yourself my friend. Besides, I don't see anyone you can bet with. Unless Hamilton fell for gambling." the ssaid commander left when Steven appeared. That's why it's time to replace them. Ethan doesn't like him either, but for a completely different reason.
"Because he hasn't come yet. There's nothing personal about it Ans, it's just that Ethan has spent the last few days here on the training ground, while you've spent most of your workout time in bed with my brother," Emmett elaborated. "Don't get me wrong, I'm sure you've had a nice workout too..."
"You're such an ass," Steven laughed, and Emmett joined him. The two have been getting along pretty well lately. Suspiciously well. Ever since Catarina left, they've been almost inseparable. I should be happy about it, but I'm still waiting for the day when one of them changes his mind and goes back to bickering. And the general cooling of their relations - nothing unusual among wolves. But it doesn't look like it yet, Emmett leaned against his younger brother with a broad smile on his face.
I left the two without comment, jumped over the wooden railing and landed on the soft grass. The subsoil here changes regularly, grass, sand, stones, cobblestones or clay, anything that can be stood on and that the Guards might come across behind the high walls of the Palace. Ethan stood up to me, silently watching Hamilton rummage between the practice swords until he finally found what he was looking for. Which could have been anything, all swords are identical. Before he returned to us, I noticed approaching Remis, accompanied by his men, and Emmett waving at him from a distance.
Hamilton stopped in the middle of the round training ground, one sword in each hand. Despite the heat, he decided to wear a full uniform, probably because today is the last time he will wear it. The red cloak flutters in the wind, waiting for the commander to put it in one of the wardrobes in his beautiful home. I find it almost sad. Almost, because I just almost like him. "You know the rules, but before we go on to Communion itself, I must repeat them." Hamilton fixed his stern gaze on me, "no magic, nor cheating," shifting his gaze to Ethan. "honour the rules of this fight,"
"Don't worry, we'll behave accordingly," I took the sword from his hand and checked it. "Honour is our companion on the path to the Light, despite the darkness," I recited with a smile. I hate Damien's drivel, but sometimes it comes in handy. I should have kept my sword, it's a bit lighter and much sharper, this blade seems dull compared to it from the look and doesn't fit so comfortably in my hand. But tradition dictates that I take this. Moreover, I had already killed with weapons in a much worse state, and if there was no other way, with my bare hands. And this is not a fight to the death.
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of." Hamilton raised his hand and waited for us to face each other. "Let the better one win. You can start," he lowered his hand, backed, watching us with his sharp eyes.
Ethan raised his sword and hesitantly took a step toward me, there's no point in delaying it. I repeated his movement and covered the distance between us with two big steps. I attacked first, the sword biting into the second piece of steel with a loud bang. My fingers tingle under the impact. I realized that I hadn't fought Ethan yet, I hadn't even looked when he practiced, I don't know how fast and strong he is. The closest I came to seeing him fight was when we ran out of the cell together, but I was distracted by a whole bunch of other things back then. Like a headache and a spinning world. All I remember is that he's very fast. Which means more work for me and less unnecessary tries whether he's paying attention.
The screams around the standing guards pumped me with adrenaline, I couldn't make out their voices, but I could hear them shouting Ethan's name and my damn title, Heiress. Too bad it's just borrowed and belongs to someone else anyway, I can't blame them for not knowing. At least they don't favor any of us.
He deflected another blow with ease, and I waited for him to attack. Ethan's attack was fierce and malicious, and I struggled to cover. The next attack was not fierce, and the one after it was. Wondering if I should let him get tired, I dodged a few more attacks and thought about what to do next. My options are limited, the only thing I've noticed is that Ethan makes sure that every move is done correctly. But I don't know how to take advantage of it, because all his movements are so precise that they don't give me much space. And on top of that, he's been smiling all the time. It's like practicing with Damien, I have to make him improvise and throw his perfect steps off. Then he will have to think, automated movements will not save him.
I bit my lip, loosened my grip, and prepared for my own set of attacks. I need to control the blade. Compared to Ethan, I sweated a lot more. I had to turn aseveral times, trying not to lose speed between blows, wanting to overwhelm him with a shower of attacks, hoping he would make a mistake. But he didn’t. He just avoided everything with a smile. At the same time, he stepped backwards. I wanted to smile too, but instead I focused. Another turn and another blow, I need to move Ethan some more. The wooden fence is just a few steps away. And behind him, Yess grins at me, because he's already figured out what I'm trying to do.
I turned around again, almost losing my balance, the grass under my feet starting to slip. In such heat, I find it quite strange and very unlikely. But I don't have time to think about why. I had to slow down, Ethan took advantage of it and attacked, so I had to retreat again. There goes my plan.
Ethan reached out, his sword cutting through the air with a whistling, I have no desire to cover this blow. I jumped aside, my foot slipped and I landed hard with my back on the wet grass, gasping. What kind of crap is this? The air is shimmering above the Palace, it's too hot here, but the grass below me is wet, as if dew had just fallen. That makes no sense. Someone is afraid of losing his small bet.
The fact that I wasn't fazed by Ethan on the ground, I saw him release his hand and prepare to place his sword around my neck. I didn't mean to lose before and certainly do not now. I bucked up on my elbow, bent my leg, and turned half-squatting with my other leg extended. I finally threw Ethan off balance with something. Literally. He hit the ground and cursed loudly.
He got to his feet as quickly as I did. "Well, that helped no one," he said. I deflected his strong blow and laughed. We both start breathing heavily. He wears the first layer of his uniform, breathable and lightweight. I wore a light turtleneck with a light shirt with open sleeves underneath and I can already feel the fabric sticking to my sweaty skin. Back to the original plan, I guess. I have to surprise him with something. My back hurts, but I'm determined to win. Ethan dodged a few attacks, but he didn't back a step, I slowed down. We took turns, his punches were stronger, more aggressive, mine faster. It seems to me that we have both resorted to the simplest of things. We are both playing for time. We both give it our all and silently pray that it will work out. It's not much use for either of us, I don't have anyone to pray to, and I don't want to fulfill his wish.
My arm muscles burn, my palms tremble under the onslaught. I didn't relent. Now it doesn't matter which of us had an advantage, we're both just waiting for the other to make a mistake. On the wrong step, bad timing, failure of a tired body.
The blade of the sword glistened in the bright sun, approaching me ominously at a dangerous angle. Quite different than I would have expected. I'll have to twist my hand to let his blade slide over mine. I'm just not sure I can twist it that much.
The reflection of the light took me to a completely different place for a while, the stone walls don't let much light in, I can't see the end of the room, all I know is that it's long. And uncomfortably cold, not so much in temperature as in atmosphere. Something about it is different, wrong. I can't name it, but it's there.
Edgar stood in front of me. Of all the people, he was the one who stepped out of the shadows. His sword glinted in the dim light, just as Ethan's was approaching me. Under the same, impossibly stupid angle.
I didn't react fast enough, I didn't twist my hand, it crashed. A deafening bang has shot through my body, pressing against my wrists, not controlling my own hand. I feel my grip loosen. The diamond-like blade flew into the air and landed on the dark ground with a loud sound resembling a shattering of glass.
I recovered just as the sword - I thought I had held firmly in my hand - flew into the air. All I could do was watch it stab himself into the grass a few yards away. The surprise on Ethan's face spread to everyone else. I can't remember the last time someone really got me rid of my sword. I take pride in not having that happen. Everyone in my family takes pride in that. And now I can look forward to it happening at least one more time. With my own sword. This is bad, real fucking bad.
"Congratulations on your victory," I smiled quickly.
"Thanks..." Ethan tried to smile, still not able to pretend. We will have to work on that. Before he could add anything else, the other guards rushed in to congratulate their new commander. I squeezed between them before they crushed me. I went back to Steven and Emmett, mainly because the loud screams of the guards gave me a headache. Or maybe from what I've seen. Now I have a complete picture of how he got his hands on my sword. Will get. And also enough evidence that he betrayed us, betrayed me. What the fuck had Edgar gotten himself involved in? And how the fuck am I supposed to turn it around.
Steven and Emmett look at me with concern written all over their faces, naturally I’m unable to tell either of them what just happened. Remis looks only surprised, but even he wouldn't understand. I'm not sure I understand it myself. All I know is that it's not good. "Wet grass, really? Couldn't you think of anything smarter?" I jumped over the fence and slammed Emmett in the shoulder with all my might, ring first.
"I told you," Steven laughed, Emmett rubbing his shoulder hurtfully.
"I've thought of a lot, but you wouldn't appreciate it anyway," he grinned sourly, looking in the direction of the celebrating group. I followed his gaze. The guards lifted Ethan onto their shoulders and carried him back to them so they could start celebrating. At the same time they are singing something, I don't understand a single word. "But you did quite well, the best part was when you fell. Oh, and when I won!" he laughed, patted me on the shoulder and turned to Remis with a triumphant smile.
"You cheated!" accused him Caelen, laughing.
"No," Emmett grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him away from me. "I made it more fun..."
"I hope Emmett falls asleep first tonight," I frowned at my friend's back, I don't know how yet, but I plan to reciprocate.
"Don't be mischievous. Everything okay?" asked Steven, looking at me carefully. Not only does he not miss anything, he likes to tinker with it.
"We really should practice more," I smiled, not wanting to look worried. The most important thing now is to finish Communion, make Ethan the Commander of the Guard with all the trimmings, and I can sort out the rest later. "Shall we go?"
While the others headed into the hall and began to discuss all sorts of observations from the duel, I headed to the room behind the hall. It's a small room, opposite the door hangs my own portrait in a gold frame, with nothing missing that makes me the Heiress and proves who I am right here in the Palace and indeed in Zessia. A crown, a red dress, a cocky look, a sword. Everything is there. And I don't like it one bit.
I walked over to the wooden cabinet, the seal in the shape of the sun waiting to be opened. I quickly scribbled a rune in the air in the shape of an inclined Y and my own initials. The sun lit up, I heard the mechanism of the lock and a familiar click. Without thinking, almost automatically, I opened the cabinet, pulled out two bottles and a piece of cut glass. The diamonds at the bottom stand out in regular rows, while at the top the patterns are as smooth as glass. All I can think about is Edgar and what he's trying to do. Why does he want my sword in the first place? It will be of no use to him. It's not just a toy with a sharper blade. It's a piece of something he can't control. And he should know damn well.
I left the glass hanging in the air, opened the first bottle and poured out the bright blue liquid, I hate the bitter smell. It reminds me of many others that make me sick to my stomach even after years. Why are all these things bitter? Well, not all of them, actually. My thoughts drifted for a moment to a bright red liquid that is not at all bitter, but unearthly sweet, though I hate it too. So the problem is probably not in the liquids themselves. It's going to be in what they do with me.
In most countries, even prisoners are forbidden to administer Zartt'am, and my family has been violating this ban for centuries. Purposefully and consciously. Even though we have enforced it on others. That is the proverbial hypocrisy. I put the bottle back. I left the second liquid aside for now.
I sat down on one of the large pillows on the floor. Apart from those comfortable pockets, there is no other furniture to sit on. If pillows can be considered furniture at all. Ethan peeked cautiously inside, and I waved for him to come inside. He looked around nervously and sat across from me with a terrified smile.
"So, this is Communion?" the gray eyes gaze slid to the goblet in my hand.
"Just the important part," I smiled. I don't want him to feel like he should be nervous. It's not a big deal. "Listen to me, you have to drink it. Once you do, you'll confess everything you've ever wanted to confess. All the embarrassing secrets, the dark thoughts, the things you want to forget, all come to the surface. You won't be able to lie about any of this, and you won't be able to stop it. Do you understand that?" I asked, placing the cup on the ground between us and supporting my head with my hands.
He opened his mouth, took a breath, and reached out to the cup. He quickly put it to his mouth as if he were racing with himself, unable to decide if he really wanted it. His body competes with reason. And I guess I know which part leads. He quickly drank the blue liquid and put down the empty cup. Obviously proud of himself, he looked at him for a long time.
Ethan straightened, folding his hands in his lap, the veins in his neck swelling and throbbing furiously, the gray irises retreating into the background of the black dolls. His thoughts are screaming at me one over the other, showing me various images, scenes from his life. Everything his poisoned mind just remembered and tries to show me. After a little while, his thoughts calm down, the images clear and begin to make sense. Until then, my head will get really bad and my mood will get worse, but it doesn't matter. The Guard needs a new commander.
Ethan took a sharp breath. An elderly, pleasant-looking married couple, probably his parents, simply showed up and opened a set of memories that have accompanied him all his life and will not leave him alone. It's the very memories that shaped him, made him the man who now sits in front of me. Whether he sticks to them because they mean everything to him, or he can't get rid of them, and if he had the chance, he would change them all. But he’s stuck with all of them. All the memories.
Like a little boy, climbing a tall tree with thick branches and a while later falls down to hard ground. He must have been forbidden to climb that tree. He broke the rule and I think he's proud of it to this day. Before that fall, he had gotten closer to a world he doesn't normally see. To the world high from the treetops, above the heads of everyone else. One he had never seen before.
Even the porcelain shards on the wooden floor did not leave Ethan. This is something he regrets. Of course, no one will ever admit to a broken vase, no matter how old they are... But even the porcelain shards eventually disappeared, replaced by levitating pillows and clothes in the children's room.
"You’re a mage?" I asked, surprised. I'm sure he isn't. Most people have some power in them, but they can hardly cast a spell with that little bit. Unless they are forced to try something like that, and it usually does not end well. A violent burst of magic flowing through their body usually does a lot of damage.
"I went to the Academy in Taltron, but I was fired for lack of talent," he admitted calmly. I frowned, if he didn't have enough talent, he wouldn't even get into the Academy. And it is not possible for him to just lose his abilities. Not much is easily lost. And if he was a mage, he still is. But he's not. Unless someone helped him and that would be bad and forbidden. "Not that I wanted to be a mage, I was much more drawn to the army."
"As a mage, you would have a much better position in the army. Anywhere, in fact. Give me your hand," I ordered, and he did it immediately. I pulled one of the daggers out of my shoe and pricked his finger with the tip of the blade. He didn't even twitch. Zartt'am is banned for various reasons, loss of one’s will and in some cases self-preservation are definitely on the list. I scooped up a drop of blood on the tip of the blade and let it run into my palm, pronouncing a short formula in the old language. If he's a mage, his blood should tell me. Even if he’s not.
A red drop held its shape on my palm, seeming to do nothing. Taking his time, Ethan tapped his fingers impatiently on his knee. The first spark was almost invisible, I noticed it, he didn't. I smiled as the drop finally rose, slowly changing its state in flight, from liquid to a cloud of brilliant substance full of magic. It has a bluish color. Some ancestor of his was definitely a mage, he was a mage, but now he's not. Not exactly, he can't use his power the way mages do. It's still in his blood, he could pass it on, but he doesn't use it. Why? What the fuck had happened to him in Taltrone? And why doesn't he know anything about it? He would remember something like taking away power damn well. And his memories are stubbornly silent. He only remembers how he left the place. I shook my head, another mystery to add to my list. "I wouldn't say you don't have enough talent, quite the opposite."
Ethan shrugged uninterestedly. I stared at the dilated pupils. This is not the only secret. More pictures flew in, first love, first rejection. That always hurts. Hatred of mushrooms, can not eat them. I'm not surprised at that. He once had a dog that went missing during the war, and some small part of him still hopes he can find it. Poorly handled paperwork several times in a row. An encouraging trait for a new commander. He never forgave himself for strictly following the order, I already know that. And he still believes that what happened to his family is his fault. I can hardly talk him out of it, especially in this state. It's not fair to him, he should have the right to decide when he wants to talk about it himself.
"Tell me what you think of the Guard." I saw nothing interesting at the mention of them. I was pleased that he got along with everyone.
"They seem to get used to me pretty quickly. They started to follow me before this," he smiled to himself. He feels that he belongs to them. That is quite clear. And it certainly fits him better than Oakfort. "Thomas is mad at me, he feels the place was his. Cayden, Junior and Michael are the best guys I've ever met. And Dex scares me, seriously, what they fed him, he's over two meters wide," he laughed, Dex is really big and strong. When I fought him, I was afraid that he would kill me by mistake, either with too hard a blow or by stepping on me.
"What are you going to do with Thomas?"
"Nothing, he deserves a little time to process it. I don't know exactly what Hamilton told him, I should probably talk to him about it. I don't think I want him to be my deputy. Actually, I'll have to talk to everyone, there are things I'd like to change," I nodded, he's ready for the job. What's more, he wants it. That's more than what could be said about Hamilton. He simply saw it as another job under Jonathan's guidance. And I hate it when my father decides something for me.
"Anything else you'd like to tell me?"
"I think we got out of that cell easily," he said worriedly, and I thought about it too, and more than once. It was too easy, even under normal circumstances. I nodded. I came to the conclusion that the Twins got what they wanted from me and just let us go. I mean, she let me go, probably still wanted him, but not so much that they would go over me. Which is understandable, given our last meeting. They always disappear before anyone even starts looking for them. The question remains, what good is my blood, but I'm sure I'll find out in time. Whether I want to or not.
I opened the second bottle, the cut cup floated, I poured a clear liquid into it. I was about to hand it to him, but I stopped. "You know you can have that scar removed, don't you?"
"Who says I want to have it removed?" he asked with a smile. It's been almost two years since the battle he was wounded in, and even with all the magic they've used to heal him, it still looks rough and somehow brutal. Stretching from the left cheekbone through the nose to under the right eye, forever changing the shape of his nose. And how it looks and affects others. And he doesn't mind one bit.
How did he come to it? In response, an image immediately appeared before my eyes. He was standing in the middle of a ruined city, I would guess Plucas, several buildings slumped to the ground and blocked the road with rubble. A man slightly shorter than Ethan approached him with long, curved daggers in each hand. Ethan turned, a slightly taller man approaching him from the other side. He had only one dagger in his hand, the other he either lost or, more likely, left inside someone. He brandished the remaining weapon at Ethan, who dodged the first shot and wounded his attacker. Ethan took a step back when the first of them rushed towards him. He almost lost his balance in the movement, bowing his head just as the blow was approaching him. He fell to the ground only after dealing with the attacker who had injured him.
"I'm just offering you options, drink it," I handed him the cup I'd been holding until now, the cut ornaments carved into my fingers.
"Don't you find me honest enough?" he asked, incredulously examining the liquid in the cup, twirling it around a few times in his hand and sniffing it.
"It's an antidote, unless you want to be this honest for another few hours before your body flushes out the pollutants on its own," I laughed at the idea. The Guard should get to know him better, but probably not like this.
"An antidote? You poisoned me?" he asked, confused. He looked at the liquid again and spun it again. I'm not sure if it's because he can't get over the fact that his brain didn't tell him to run, but it's forcing him to stay. "Got nothing to add?" I put my thumbs under my chin, my elbows resting on my knees, my index fingers on my lips. Leaning as close to him as my body would allow, and I smiled slightly. I didn't say a word. This decision is up to him, I don't have to lead him to it. He sighed and took a sip.
"The last thing left," I walked over to the cabinet, hiding the vial of antidote. Opening a small drawer and pulling out a box of dark wood, decorated with geometric blue steel ornaments. The golden rays of the sun over the ornaments reached to the edges of the box. "Put on your uniform, we'll meet you in the hall."
"Wait, please," he stopped me on my way to the door. "I... I don't want anything big."
"Big?" I laughed at the very idea of how tiny this celebration of ours is compared to others. "As if you didn't even know the Hales," I left Ethan alone with his uniform.
I feel that it would be rude to transfer directly to the hall, although who could reproach me? Maybe Steven, but even he holds back in moments like this. I stopped in front of the tall door and quickly swapped my turtleneck and pants for a long, red dress. The hair dissolved on its own and fell on the exposed back. If it's supposed to be official, then with everything. The crown is such a nice addition.
The Hall of the Chosen is one of the few rooms that we, as Heirs, have not appropriated over the years. Unquestionably, it is their place, not ours. The gold-adorned walls are dedicated only to the Guards, and statues of unforgettable commanders stand on the sides, watching anyone who dares to enter with their stony eyes. These are not unpleasant sights, everyone is patiently waiting for the inclusion of another Guard, another commander who will get the same opportunity as them. To become an unforgettable legend. It almost scares me how few of these commanders actually got here. Sure, not everyone can be a hero and exceptional, but there are only thirty-seven statues in the long hall. Out of hundreds of commanders. And of those heroes, I‘ve personally met only nine of them. So, even though I'm terribly old myself, this is all much older. Sure rebuilt, but terribly old. And that's a pretty scary thought for me.
I walked past the statues and all the guards in carefully arranged uniforms to the front of Hamilton. I noticed Steven and Emmett on the side of the hall, both talking to Damien, who of course didn't mention that he was planning on stopping by. And from his carefree smile, I guess something happened, but he's not in such a hurry that I can't finish it here. Remis moved on to Peter, who also simply showed up as the only member of the Council, while the other commanders—and probably Ethan and Remis' acquaintances—stayed back. Usually there are a lot more people here, but I want to fulfill Ethan's only wish, which has been bothering me for weeks. And besides, everyone is watching anyway, just not from here.
"Ready to go home?" I asked Hamilton.
"I'm looking forward to it more than I should, though I must admit," he paused, looking at the lined up guards. With their heads raised, everyone is waiting for a new commander. "I'm going to really miss them. All the long conversations with Adrian and the errors in Miles' reports... Sometimes I'm surprised he even knows how to write his own name," Hamilton laughed sincerely, I had to join him. Miles has many talents, a touch for language is missing among them. And the idea of him just trying to learn another language scares me. "And I won't even be able to add extra services to Junior."
"Did he do something?" I found him in the row, right next to Adrian, who made my search a lot easier.
"Besides the endless remarks on every order?" followed my gaze to examine it too. "He brought a late report and it wasn't worth much either."
"Ethan's going to give him some extra fun, I wouldn't worry about that."
"Why did you choose him?" he asked quietly. "You don't have to answer, I just... I know he helped you, but that doesn't qualify him for the job."
"No, no," I agreed with him quickly. "but there's just something about him. You just can't get a recommendation for this job, Deacon." I turned to him, but he didn't give me a single glance, looking proudly at the men he'd been training for the past few months. In one row are Dex, with his broad shoulders and smile, Miles with his beard, Yess, who grinned as before, and Aron and Jonah, who are taller than them all. Across from them, Caleb and Thomas stand in an equally balanced row with their serious looks, Adrian leans toward Junior with his wise gaze, and Michael and Cayden try to talk discreetly, "It's only two transfers via portals from Goldenhill, if you ever want to check on them."
Ethan walked across the hall with quick steps, I knew he wouldn't like the attention that was being focused on him right here. That's why there's almost no one here, most people just have to watch it from afar. But he should try to enjoy it at least a little. After all, we are all here to celebrate his success.
He stopped close to Hamilton and me, in front of a larger-than-life statue of the First Commander. This particular commander had started this long tradition, Stephan looking for a way to secure the services of highly talented soldiers within the Council's reach. And because such talented people usually have good ideas, they were given their own organization under the protection of the Crown, or rather the Heirs.
The lights in the room dimmed, and instead of white balls, gilded torches on the walls were lit. A few deep voices began to sing, almost as if the statues themselves were singing the hymn of praise of the Guard. The tones carried across the hall, reflected off their walls and came back to us. It's a pretty impressive song. I love the hymn, it highlights the brave deeds of men who have given their lives for my family and loved ones over the centuries. It tells of their service to the Light as the Heirs themselves, and more than anything it speaks of the brotherhood forged between the members of this family united by the struggle.
It's up to me to break the newly created silence. Ethan looks like he's going to faint at any moment while the others wait patiently. It would be rude to prolong it. "Major Ethan Rees, are you prepared to take on the responsibilities of Commander of the Royal Guard and serve the Crown of the Sun as well as the Light and the family who have sworn to protect it?"
"As long as the Light follows my path and the last ray of hope stay in my heart." Ethan put his right hand on his heart, "I swear." Hamilton walked up to him to hand him his new sword, the same as the other guards with the golden pommel in the shape of the sun. Equally perfectly balanced, made of the best blue steel. Naturally. It's a work of art, the sword combines beauty and usefulness, and thanks to a few spells, it doesn't get dull anytime soon. And it's better than Ethan's old, scratched sword in every way, though I’m sure he loves that old piece of steel.
I swapped with Hamilton, smiling at Ethan, carefully pinning a gold belt to his right arm, the undisputed designation of the Guard Commander.
I took a step back and bowed deeply. Hamilton followed my example, as did everyone else in the room. There was a clamor among the guards, and they all greeted their commander loudly. Hamilton quickly congratulated him and headed for the Guardsmen. Probably so that he could officially say goodbye to them.
I pulled out the box I'd first pulled out of the locker. Ethan carefully took it from me. He pressed his thumb against the top and opened it. On the red satin lies a gold bracelet. Ethan's full name is already engraved on the gold block. Under the bracelet awaits him the ring of the commander of the guard, with a golden lion's head on a red stone with the inscription ' For Victory' just below it. Next to the ring lies his gold coin, a magical artifact that always takes him back to the capital, specifically back to the Guard headquarters. He put the ring on his right index finger and bit his lip as he examined the jewel. "Captain of the Kingsguard, that's big..." He chuckled.
"Yes, it is," I laughed, helping him attach the bracelet and quickly securing it with a rune to keep him from loosening or falling. If he wanted to take it off, he's out of luck. "but you have my full confidence. Besides, I can't die anyway, so you don't have to fear the worst."
"You loosened your grip just before that last blow, why?" he asked in a low voice, his urgency not hidden.
"I didn't plan on letting you win, but it's hard to explain. I guess you'll have to be fine with knowing that something distracted me." something, someone, I added to myself. What the fuck was Edgar thinking. Or conspicuous. "Get it out of your head, there's a party ahead of you," I patted him on the shoulder and headed out of the hall with a smile.
Damien, Peter and Hamilton are chatting in the hall, or so it seems from a distance. Neither of them looks very enthusiastic. And neither of them speaks. Apparently everyone else went to the dining room to celebrate, shouting and bursting out laughing. I headed over to the strange trio with Ethan hot on my heels. I don't have a choice anyway, although I'd rather avoid it.
"So, what's going on here?" I asked at the entrance to the not very decorated but spacious hall. The Guards all gathered here when needed, so it's more of a purposeful room than a representative one. All three of them remain stubbornly silent, I have no idea what they're waiting for, but if they didn't need something, they wouldn't be standing here. And Hamilton seems to have had enough, too.
"I just make sure everyone gets along nicely," he said with a smile. I'm starting to feel like he's really looking forward to being gone, I've never seen him smile so much. It@s kinda strange.
"Peter?" he turned to me when I addressed him, wearing a vest with a high collar of dark coloir, moreover decorated with silver embroidery, and a long white tunic below it to his knees. He met with the Council. Otherwise, he wouldn't have such decorated clothes, he doesn't care twice about what he wears. He always blames everything on the fact that he can do anything, because he has Alryne and all the documents under him, so he doesn't have time. I just don't think he has any taste.
"Remis leaves for the front in the morning and Gallien returns home. The army is ready. I'm supposed to give you these messages," he pulled out two sealed letters and handed them to me.
"Isn't that Riley's job to deliver messages?"
"Riley wasn't in his office, and it's certainly not my job to look for him," he told me irritably. "Moreover, I must inform you that the Council has agreed on the course of action during the war. Given your close relationship with the King of Athran and our generally very friendly relations, we are ready to cooperate with Athran and it's s Council, if you so wish."
"That's…" for a while, it looked like we would have to manage everything separately. Which I don't like one bit, because I'd have to repeat myself with every command. This will make things a lot easier. I wondered if I should worry about Riley, but Peter probably didn't bother searching, not at all. If Riley had been in the next room, Peter wouldn't have noticed him. For him, it is important that he was not in the office and did not sit behind his desk.
I opened the first message, it was clear from the seal that it was a message from the front. Half of the Eastern Army is ready to attack and waiting for command, while the other half is still being formed. The second letter is from Lord Gallien, just as Peter said, he writes that he is returning home for some time and will come to the meeting through the portal. He just writes it in much longer, more extensive sentences. "Why should Remis go to the front, where is Darien?"
"Darien wants Remis' help with formation at the border or something. You can ask him yourself, I didn't know he'd be here," he replied, I could think of a few more questions, but in the end I just nodded. I'll have to check them at the border in person, even if I talk to Remis. Just to make sure everyone knows what to do. "If you don't need anything else, I'll let you get back to celebrating. I have my own plans for the afternoon." he smiled sincerely for the first time and turned to leave with a slight bow.
"He's right, you should get back to celebrating," I said to Ethan and Hamilton. Damien waits patiently, and I know that when he's come this far, it's important. I went out with him in front of the building.
"Thalus wants to talk to you, he looked pretty angry, but maybe he's just stuck with it after all these years," he laughed. Despite the hot weather, he wears a gray jacket, yellow vest and white shirt. He doesn't seem botherd by the hot climate. "Apparently you've talked to Daniel."
"You know I talked to him," I assured him. Damien is always well informed, usually way better than I'd like. And it's not just because it's his job, he loves to have all the information and dirty secrets, even if he rarely uses them without some greater motivation.
"What do you think he'll find there?" he asked innocently.
"Do you want to chit chat or do you really need something?" I don't feel like having more riddles, I already have enough unanswered questions. And it gives me a terrible headache.
Instead of answering, he offered me a hand. I rolled my eyes and grabbed hold of him. The small courtyard disappeared and was replaced by a huge white hall with high windows through which a bright, warm light always shines in, regardless of the time of day or weather. Thalus is already seated at a long table partially covered by a blue cloth, with the second commander of the Fifth Army, Hanno Lessius.
"Witty is not in here," Thalus began immediately. He doesn't seem upset to me, no more than usual. His black hair is neat, but it simply falls in loose waves, which is unusual, but about all.
"What do you mean?" said my uncle and walked across the long room, accompanied by the sound of my own footsteps.
"He's not with the Fifth. He's gone," he announced simply. How would he disappear?
I stopped, I have to think about what he is trying to tell me. The Fifth Army is composed of the best warriors and soldiers. Their bodies, as well as their minds, are asleep until they need to be called back to the service to which they have all surrendered. Every single one of them is still an ordinary person, and their only purpose is to fight any threat we present to him. None of them leave their assigned place here, and if they do, it's on their way to the battlefield and back. So how could one of them just disappear? It's not like Witty can decide to go for a walk, wander and stay there. He should be in his place until someone wakes him up. "Well, that's just perfect. What do you expect me to do with that information? Did you start looking for him?"
"We need Daniel, but he left at your command. I think Witty is on the Other Side, but I'm not sure how he got there," Thalus explained, gesturing for Lessius to continue.
"They woke me up yesterday, everyone was in their seats at the time. I checked them in the morning, picking out the ones that needed to be woken up a little earlier than the rest." Lessius spoke quickly, I like that he never wastes time on unnecessary detours. "He wasn't there this afternoon, I reported it, and your mages came up with this explanation."
"You don't need Daniel," I assessed my options, Daniel is out of the game, I need him to find out about visiting the A Dun'Amanh Twins. Thalus is out of the question either, he is not Immortal, and he would have to drag his physical and disgustingly old body there, which carries a considerable number of risks. "I'll find it myself. Jim, I'm going to need an anchor."
"Do you really want to go there?" he asked cautiously. It's a pretty poorly worded question, I don't want to go there in any sense of the word, I simply don't have a choice. An army of the undead needs a commander. I figured long ago that that's why Ethan was in that cell with me. He was to be their commander, just like Brassie. And Witty is the highlight of the evening. The crown jewel on a plate of crazy plans of textbook psychopaths. Although they will probably have to force him to cooperate. The sad thing is that that's the part that really works for them.
"No, I really don't want to. Just do it," I sat down on one of the chairs at the table, with a bit of luck they won't let my body fall.
Damien isn't trying to talk me out of my idea, Jonathan certainly would. Nevertheless, I can see that he is strongly opposed. He grits his teeth and doesn't speak to me except for a few instructions, avoiding my gaze. At least he'll focus on the spell. They have to put my body in a coma or something very similar to it. I'll be able to detach myself, go to A Dun'Amanh from here, and look for Witty. And when I'm ready to return, my anchor – Damien – will be waiting. I won't need Daniel to bring me back if he doesn't have time. Just a perfect plan that can be fucked up at any time.
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